(MASON'S POV)
The next day started like any other chaotic, glitter-filled morning with my self-appointed chaos squad, the kind of morning that felt loud and warm and safe all at once. Fiona had music blasting in the kitchen while she cooked, moving around like she owned gravity itself, flipping pancakes with one hand and arguing with Abigail about something completely ridiculous with the other. Jake kept sneaking pieces of bacon when he thought no one was looking—he was very bad at not being noticed—and Abigail kept smacking his hand away without even turning her head. I just sat there, wrapped in the soft lavender hoodie Jake had practically forced onto me, trying not to smile too much and failing anyway. It was… nice. Too nice, honestly. The kind of nice that made you feel like something bad was waiting just around the corner.
